


The Baby-sitter is Here

by arte



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baby-sitter, Gen, Kid Mycroft, Kid Sherlock, Teen John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-26
Updated: 2013-04-26
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arte/pseuds/arte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock Holmes and Mycroft Holmes are actually children, and John Watson really is their baby-sitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Baby-sitter is Here

**The Baby-sitter is Here**

 

Mummy was a wonderful woman, but from time to time, she suffered from bouts of Inspiration. The sign of Inspiration was not easy to miss. She would sit still and silent for hours, occasionally muttering something out of the blue. If patiently prodded, she would respond, slowly and dazedly in the grasp of Inspiration, but when she _awoke_ in a rare moment of clarity _,_ she would look miserable, as if she lost some precious piece of herself. Mycroft remembered his father’s touch on his shoulder, stopping him from approaching Mummy. _Let her wrap herself in the tale, Mycroft. She would come back to us later._

 

She did come back.

 

Only to go back again, when the Inspiration called her.

 

Mycroft wondered if his father knew that he would die soon. It was highly improbable, given that he died in a car accident, but the way he taught Mycroft how to look after Mummy, and later on, Sherlock- the way the man taught how to appreciate and _worry about_ genius… It made one wonder, had he been planning to leave?

 

The answer was neither here nor there. That wasn’t the problem. Mycroft had coped. Sherlock was three, and Mummy took a grief inspired trip with the Inspiration, but it was okay. Manageable. Their nanny helped. Two years passed without too much happening.

 

The problem now, was that the nanny, Victoria Trevor, had fallen ill. She called, voice cracking, that she would be out of the commission until the start of the August, at the very least. Mycroft supposed that he should be grateful that it happened during the summer break, but it was still inconvenient, considering that Mummy was feeling the gentle tugging of the Inspiration. As much as Mycroft loathed to admit it, there was no way he would be able to take care of Sherlock all summer _alone._ They needed to hire a temporary baby-sitter, before Mummy fell too deep into the Inspiration.

 

That was easier said than done. There was a reason why it took 6 months before they hired the nanny. 

 

“How long do you think this one would hold out, Mycroft? I say three hours,” piped the reason for such difficulty. It was said that children were likely to test the boundary when they met strange caretakers, but what Sherlock was doing to them was too extreme to be called that. If anything, Mycroft would say that Sherlock was testing whether they were befitting of sainthood. Or martyrdom, come to think of it.

 

“Now, now, Sherlock, we should give the poor bloke a chance, at the very least. You know that Mummy is running out of options now.”

 

“It’s not our fault that none of the previous sitters passed the test,” Sherlock pouted, adding a puppy dog eyes for kicks. “Are you saying that we should skip testing on this one?”

 

Mycroft paused thoughtfully at that. It was true that Mycroft would spend rather exhausting summer without the help of a sitter, but was he really that desperate that he would risk taking an incompetent one? After all, it was far better for Mycroft to suffer than to scar Sherlock.

 

“I didn’t say that, Sherlock.”

 

The grin that Sherlock gave in response was practically devious.

 

“Great! So-” Sherlock drew out the last syllable for dramatic effect. “Should we go all out, or lull him into sense of false security?”

* * *

John Watson wasn’t looking forward to visiting Granny in Sussex. Not because he didn’t like her- he loved her dearly, in fact - but because of Harry. It would be near impossible to get away from his sister in a place where John had a) no friend to go out with, b) nothing urgent that would require his presence, and c) a Granny that liked to see her grandchildren getting along fine. The forced civility with no distraction in that small house would kill him.     

 

John was sorry to find that he was correct. By the end of the fourth night of their stay, he was releasing his frustration by screaming into his pillow. It was not healthy.

 

Perhaps that was the reason why he latched onto the story of Mrs. Holmes that Granny was only absent-mindedly talking about.

 

“Wait, wait. You are saying that she has been searching for a babysitter for the past ten days? What is taking so long?”

 

“Their children are said to be somewhat… testing to strangers,” Granny said delicately. “The fact that she is looking for someone who could work for long hours is not helping, too.”

 

“Long hours of work?” John perked up at that particular word. Granny threw him a shrewd glance.

 

“Why, are you trying to ditch me for those Holmes kids? Tired of this old hag already?”

 

 _What?_ John was so shocked that his brain stopped working for a moment. And then it began working again, registering what he heard, and-

 

“What?! I- No!!” John stuttered then half shouted, appalled that she would think of anything like that. Which was stupid, now that he was slapped out of his urgent need to get away from Harry. Because, honestly, he was here in Sussex to spend time with Granny, not to run off, trying to-

 

A hearty laughter stopped his panicked thoughts. “Oh, John,” Granny said as she actually wiped a tear. “No wonder Harry loves to tease you so.”

 

“Harry is insane,” John answered automatically, and then, “Sorry, Granny. I wasn’t thinking and-“

 

“Oh, shush,” Granny flicked her wrist. “I was just messing with you. After all, I’ve seen you and Harry squabbling ever since you were five.”

 

John laughed sheepishly. After a bit of pause, he added, “So, you okay with me going to the Holmes?”

 

* * *

 

Evidently, she was okay with it.

 

John was not. That was to say, he was fast becoming not okay. He was standing in front the Holmes resident which was on the address that Granny provided along with a map, and it was a… proper mansion, with a magnificent iron gate. The kind that practically called for a tux and all kind of formal wears. It uncomfortably brought to attention that John was only sporting on a striped shirts and a pair of jeans. Granted, this was the best attire he had on hands – after all, he didn’t thought he would be required to impress anyone, let alone an _employer_ in such a fancy place – but it didn’t lessen the feeling that he had made a huge mistake. He shouldn’t have just come here so impulsively, without any preparation. He should have gotten a phone number or sort and talked to Mrs. Holmes and asked few things beforehand. Hell, he should have asked why Granny was giving him _a mysterious smile_ when she handed him that address. Maybe Granny hadn’t been quite okay with him getting a job. He shouldn’t have just barged in here.

 

 _Wait_ , John thought as he stared at the firmly shut iron gate. He hadn’t barged in anywhere yet. He hadn’t even rang the bell yet, so he could just go back and do all the things he had regretted not doing-

 

-if he hadn’t jinxed it. The gate was slowing opening by itself.

 

John blinked few times and worriedly looked around himself. No one was there. It wasn’t very reassuring. John stared at the mansion and the open gate back again. In his seventeen years of life, he had never before empathised this strongly with the people in a horror movie who looked back after being repeatedly warned NOT to look back. He was finding out that danger made things all the more curious.

 

John struggled with himself for a minute, only to give up with a resigned sigh. He walked straight to the mansion, acutely aware of every sound he made. He was tense and full of anticipation. He wouldn’t have been surprised at all if something or someone had jumped out and attacked. As John safely approached and stopped in front of the front door, it dawned to him that he was being ridiculous. So the gate opened, big deal. It was remote controlled, probably, and the people in the house must have some perfectly valid, non-sinister reasons for doing that. Why would they have been spying on _John_? Honestly, he should have cut back on watching Bond movies.

 

 _If the gate opened by coincidence, then should you really be here,_ the voice in the back of his head asked, but John decided to ignore it. He was already here, so he might as well just get on with it. After a few deep, calming breaths, John raised his hand and knocked. The door opened, revealing two kids, who looked about thirteen and four respectively. Their shirts and black trousers were neatly pressed. John felt the return of his self-consciousness.  

 

“Hello, who are you?” the older kid asked. His expression was a mix of politeness, curiosity and wariness. It was perfectly normal reaction to a stranger. Except that it was a bit unsettling. It was because, for some reason, it looked like an expression an adult might wear when one was trying to act like a child.

 

John really should stop watching Bond movies.

 

“Um, well, I,“ John stuttered. Great, he had carefully planned his speech to Mrs. Holmes, but now it was all gone. All because he was distracted by his own absurd ideas. He probably looked like a complete idiot. He desperately wrecked his brain to find something to say.

 

“You are John Watson, our potential sitter,” the high-pitched voice of a child stopped John from saying anything. John was shocked to find out that it was the younger kid who said this. Did this kid just say the word _potential_? Better yet, how the hell did he know John’s name?

 

“Sherlock,” the older one said disapprovingly.

 

“What? All subterfuge went out of the window when you opened the gate. Why did you do that?”

_Subterfuge_. John stared at the kid. Was this for real? The kids started bickering, completely ignoring his existence.

 

“Mr. Watson would have gone back home if I hadn’t done that. You were getting impatient. With you in that state, I didn’t want to risk anymore delaying.”

 

“Yeah, me neither, but still, he was bound to figure it all out sooner or later after that stunt.”

 

“I’m sure if we had followed our plan, we would have been able to ensure that he found out _later._ Besides, Mr. Watson was in shock. He wouldn’t have suspected anything for a while.”

 

“Well, you know what? I don’t care. I am saying that I changed my mind. Waiting is boring. Going all out is much more fun.”

 

The older kid heaved a put upon sigh. He then gave John a congenial smile that clearly said, _Sorry, kid these days, they are so impatient. Of course I knew that already, but it gets to one sometimes, don’t you agree_? A smile shouldn’t have been able to convey that much words. And if it could, it should have been produced by an experienced politician, not by a kid about five-feet tall.  

 

“Oh, where are my manners,” the older kid said suddenly, looking a bit embarrassed. “Come in, Mr. Watson. I shouldn’t have just let you stand outside like that.”

 

With that, the kids led him to a tastefully decorated living room and made him sit on the sofa that looked horribly expensive. The older one soon disappeared with a promise of a cuppa, but the younger one stayed with John. He scrutinized him with piercing blue eyes that didn’t match well with his otherwise childlike features.  

 

“So,” John opened his mouth after a moment, unable to handle the silent observation any longer. “What is your name? I haven’t heard yet.”

 

“I’m Sherlock, and the other one is Mycroft.”

 

John bit back on his impulse, which was to ask, _Seriously?_ A plenty of other people would have asked that question already, and he didn’t particularly feel like joining that club. So instead he simply said, “I’m John Watson.”

 

“Obviously,” the kid said primly. He leapt out of the sofa and stood in front of John. Although it was physically impossible, John got the distinct impression that the kid was _looming_ infront of him. There was a strange glint in the kid's eyes.“You are not from around here, probably from London," the boy suddenly started off with different tone of his voice. It was more calculating, cold, jarringly out of placed in his high-pitched voice. "You don’t get along with your sibling. You are caring and patient to the point of being self-destructive. Your grandmother loves to shock you, and you love that, too. You are a risk-taker. You wouldn’t scream easily like the last one did, good.” He spoke, every word pronounced in an impossibly accurate way, and ended the mini-speech with a terrifyingly angelic smile.

 

John was left gaping like a fish. His head turn completely blank, and he didn't know how to react. He was transfixed.    

 

“A sister, Sherlock, a sister. Let’s be precise,” a smooth voice broke the moment. It was Mycroft, returning with a tea tray filled with a proper pot, three tea cups, and a plate full of scones.

 

“Oh,” Sherlock claimed. Like it became apparent now that John had a sister. It wasn’t to John.

 

“H-how,” John said as he tried to ground himself. “Did you figure out all that? And how did you know my name even before I told you?”

 

“Here, have some tea,” Mycroft offered, like a cup of tea would make everything better. Not that John generally didn't agree with that sentiment, but a bloody cup of tea wasn't what he needed right now. He needed answers, answers that would prove that he was not losing his head. However, it seemed like Mycroft interpretated that in another way, for he lightly commented, "Don't worry, Mr. Watson. It's not poisoned."

 

"Poison was in the option?" John asked blankly and look at the cup in front of him. What the hell. He needed all the calming effects of tea right now. Be hell with the poison. John took a sip. He was pleased to find out that it was blessedly poison-free. "Alright, now can you answer my question? Also, stop calling me Mr. Watson. I'm just John. Mr. Watson is my father."

 

“Of course, John." Mycroft nodded amiably. "As for the deduction, it’s all simple, really. For your name, doubly so. Mummy told us that Mrs. Taylor recommended her grandson, John Watson, as our possible baby-sitter.”

 

“Wait _, Granny_ recommended me?”

 

“Yes, hence the reason we knew that your Granny loves surprise. It was clear that she didn’t warn you that we knew you were coming.”

 

Well, Granny did love to give him a good surprise every time he visited. Last time, she even went as far as to disguise herself. He should have known when she gave him that mysterious smile.

 

“Did your mother tell you all about me then?”

 

“No, she rather wanted us to figure things out by ourselves.”

 

“Then how did you know?” asked John. Mycroft could have been lying, but John believed him. Those blue eyes were far too clever for that.

 

“You are obviously not from around here, frankly because you didn’t scream ‘I knew it’ at the first sign of trouble.” John gave a blank look. Sherlock added, “I said London because of your accent,” but that didn’t help at all.

 

“We are a bit notorious,” Mycroft supplied as if it summed up everything. “Which explains you being a risk-taker. You had no idea how difficult we would be, yet you came. Especially after the gate opened mysteriously. Also, we figured out your relationship with your sister and the fact you are caring-”

 

“-from your clothes,” Sherlock smoothly finished Mycroft’s sentence.

 

“My clothes?”

 

“Your clothes are ironed; clearly you wanted to impress your possible employer. Yet you are still dressed rather casually. Why? Because you didn’t plan on getting a job. So you decided impulsively. You wanted to get out of the house. There must have been a problem, not with your grandmother, you love her, but with someone that your grandmother wants you to get along with. Your parents? Not likely, then you would have taken even longer, persuading them why you suddenly had to take a job. Other cousins? Possible, but this much bad blood, a sibling is more likely. You tolerated that until a valid excuse presented itself. You didn’t want to hurt your grandmother’s feeling. Clearly, caring.”

 

“How did you know that I had a sister?”

 

“There is a strand of blond hair on your jean,” Mycroft replied calmly. “Judging by its colour and length, clearly from a young lady. It’s not your girlfriend’s. If you had one, you wouldn’t be having this conversation with us.”

 

John looked down at his pants. There was a strand of hair, at the back of his calf, partly trapped in his shoe. Huh, who knew. It must have gotten on when he had haphazardly thrown it at the floor. It was his best jean, and it didn’t look particularly wrinkly, so John hadn’t thought much of it when he had put it on.

 

“That… that was,” John blinked owlishly. He was searching for the right words, but it was difficult as he was completely floored. “Brilliant.”

  

Both of the Holmes brothers snapped their head up. They looked as surprised as John felt. John wondered about their reaction. “Really?” came a disbelieving, touch suspicious question.

 

“Yes, that was amazing, extraordinary,” John mulled things over in his head and repeated again for good measure. “Absolutely extraordinary.”

 

Sherlock and Mycroft stared at John, and then they stared at each other. There was some sort of silent communication going on. After a few minutes, they broke into a smile, the most genuine and childlike smile that John got to see today.

 

“John,” Sherlock chirped happily. “I believe you’ve passed the test.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes! Kid! Sherlock fic is really interesting to write. I've been meaning to write it for some times, but the meaning of baby-sitter, nanny, and UK public education system kept confusing me, and it made me hesitant to write the fic. I still am not sure about those concepts, but the plot bunny wouldn't leave me alone. So I just wrote it, and there are bound to be many mistakes. Sorry about that. If you could help me out, that would be wonderful. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this fic. XD


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